So this morning Whiskey woke me up a little earlier than planned. I’m a grump sleeper. A professional-level grump. But this kitten has no respect for sleep unions or snooze buttons. If I’m not up and ready on her schedule, she turns into a tiny motivational coach armed with licking and gentle biting. Resistance is futile. You don’t wake up to an alarm anymore. You wake up to a creature with whiskers and a mission.
After surviving the feline boot camp, Mom and I headed to storage to pick up some books for my exhibition this week. I’m participating in a show at the Whittier Art Gallery, which still feels a little surreal in the best way. There’s something grounding about hauling boxes of your own work around. It reminds you that all those late nights and stubborn dreams actually stack up into something you can hold in your hands.
From there, it was off to the coffeehouse for what turned into a perfect combo. An intellectual discussion about art followed by a drawing session. The kind of day that feeds the brain and the soul. If nicotine had feelings, it would’ve felt very ignored.
I’ll be honest, there were a couple of moments where small cravings tiptoed in. Not loud. Not demanding. More like knocking politely on the door to see if I’d answer. I didn’t. I stayed busy, stayed present, stayed focused on the good stuff happening right in front of me.
Whiskey kept me accountable in the morning. Art kept me inspired in the afternoon. And somewhere in between, I remembered why I’m doing this in the first place.
I got this. 🐾📚🎨
by Dan and Bonkers
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